Only This and Nothing More
by Bibi1
Summary: Scully finds herself in a strange situation and is pulled even deeper into an uncontrolable conspiracy, along with Agent Mulder.
1.

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Chapter one

Moonlight flooded the empty street facing the apartment building. There were no clouds to hinder the twinkling stars in the heavens. Everything was at peace for her at that instant; no job to worry about, no-one there to bother or prod her. At that moment, Dana Scully was free from the world, conspiracies, the FBI, even Fox Mulder, her off-beat partner. Yet, even as she sat on the steps of the apartment building, gazing heavily into the cosmos, she knew deep down that it couldn't be that way. She knew she could not fool herself into believing what was untrue. Scully took a sip of espresso and set her mug down on her knee.

_I have seen too much_, she thought, _and I can never turn back_. 

This revelation was something that she could at least fathom, but the whole truth was not something that could be as easily understood. It wasn't as trivial as this thought that filled her mind, and with that same thought, the evening was marred with unpleasantness. Here she was, trying to get some relaxation in the midst of her crazy life, and her reality had to sneak up behind her and devour the calmness. 

Scully stood to go inside, taking a last drink from her mug of espresso. The coffee tasted as bitter as the truth, and she swallowed with a frown on her face. As she lowered the cup from her mouth, it slipped through her fingers and shattered against the concrete. She laughed in mockery of her unfortunate mug and the dismal outcome of the evening. 

" 'Once upon a midnight dreary...' as they say," she muttered. She stooped down and cautiously picked up the shards of china. Shaking her head, she dumped the pieces into the trash can in the entryway and headed down the lonely hall to the elevator.

Turning the key in the lock, she stepped inside her apartment. The room was dark, though the streetlight flooded through the curtain, not the way she had left it. Had the lamp been on? Her door _had_ been locked, she was sure of that, but what of the lamp? Scully didn't remember turning it off. _I must have_, she told herself. She thoughtlessly set her sticky hand on her wooden desk and reached across the endless stacks of papers and files; more work to keep her from having any kind of 'life.' _Click_! the switch turned but the light remained off. _Click_!_ Click_! Again she turned the switch, and sighed to herself when nothing happened.

_The bulb must have gone out when I was outside_, she realized. She had worried about the light, but it had been an irrational concern. Her whole life was filled with irrational concerns! Scully felt silly, scolding herself for even thinking something was wrong, and laughed aloud at her fear, hoping to cover the unease in her stomach. She would have to get another bulb from the coat closet. It was as simple as that.

She went into the dark kitchen and flipped the light switch. But nothing happened. Scully quizzically flipped the switch again, but the light refused to turn on. 

"That's strange," she muttered to herself as she washed off her hand. Halfway to the closet, Scully froze, her muscles tensing up, her mind shouting at her to prepare to defend herself from an unseen foe. Had she imagined the footstep? She pushed back the instinct to fight, one that came from years of being in the FBI. That would do no good. If someone was there, she would most likely be overpowered. Perhaps she had imagined the noise, but her senses told her something was wrong. She slowly turned around and heaved a sigh as she surveyed the very dark, but empty room. 

Yet the thought still plagued Scully's mind, and she instinctually organized the options in her mind. Her gun was on her desk, too far away to reach if someone was really there. Or there was a base-ball bat in the closet, which she could reach with more ease. Not a noise had been heard since she had stopped moving, save the sound of her own breathing. Shaking off the chilling feeling that was creeping up her spine, Scully moved again toward the closet. 

__

You need to relax,she told herself, _You're turning into a paranoid mess. Reminds me of someone I know._

That was when the intruder struck, from behind. She tried to scream, but her assailant pressed a hand against her mouth and her arm was pinned behind her back in a painful joint-lock. A voice hissed into her ear.

"Don't move, and you don't die."

The voice was strangely familiar. Scully sharply took in a breath of air. She was imagining it; the voice wasn't... couldn't be...

She was shoved toward the couch and she tried to yell, but nothing came out. Instead she clamped her mouth shut as a syringe was pulled out of the darkness. The invader's face was still in shadow, yet Scully could tell by the slender fingers and sleek figure that it was a woman. She stepped forward and tapped the syringe, not rushing, almost daring Scully to cry out. 

" 'Once upon a midnight dreary, as I pondered week and weary...Only this and nothing more.' Is that right, Agent Scully?"

She took one step forward, then another, until her figure loomed above, black as pitch. She plunged the needle into Scully's arm, and in doing so, moved forward into a beam of light that stole through the blinds from the street. As Scully's vision blurred, she gasped in shock. Her attacker was herself.

Spinning, twisting; everything was blurred. Blurred, but slowly coming into focus. There was no real pain, only slight discomfort. Scully woke to find herself bound and gagged in her bedroom. The darkness swarmed around her, threatening to swallow her whole. What she had seen now seemed like a day-dream; half true, half fantasy. She knew the possibilities, but this...this was far to much for her. She had been attacked before, many times, but nothing could ever come close to this assault. It left her with a strange feeling. What was it that she felt? Violation? Perhaps. Shock; anger; fear; aggression? It was far worse than an attack on the stairs of a governmental building, far more horrible than being kidnapped by Duane Berry or the deranged Donnie Pfaster. She shuddered at the thought of all these things she had gone through, realizing that those kind of situations just don't go away. Not when you're part of a governmental conspiracy. Not when you're Dana Scully.

That was when Dana 4 walked into the room, carrying a candle and a black knapsack. _She looks exactly like me_, thought Scully, _a clone ._

She wore black hiking boots which were mostly hidden by a pair of leather pants. Her hands were covered by finger-less biking gloves. A long black trench coat was tossed aside against the far wall. No wonder Scully hadn't seen her. The clone didn't turn around when she first addressed Scully.

"I cut the electricity. You'll have to deal with it for now."

Scully murmured incoherently, and the clone looked up with the same intelligent, piercing blue eyes. It was like looking into a mirror. Scully shivered, and shifted her gaze toward the floor. The clone approached her, pulling off her gloves, and crouched down, a blank look on her face. 

"What? You want something?"

Scully nodded emphatically. At this the clone extended her hand, causing Scully to flinch, but instead of hitting her as she expected, the clone reached around the back of the frightened woman's head and began to untie the gag.

"If you scream, I'll have to kill you," she said in an emotionless voice. "Understand?"

Again Scully nodded. The clone removed the gag and set it aside. For a moment, Scully just sat there, shifting her sore jaw. After a moment, she found her voice and spoke.

"Why? Why are you doing this?" 

The answer came instantaneously, "Because I was told to. I was not made to question, just to perform. I don't mean to cause you any fear. My orders are not to assassinate you, but to replace you until further instructions are issued to me. As I told you before, I cut the power to your apartment. I'll have to turn it on again."

It sounded more like a programmed speech than an explanation. Scully pondered this a moment, trying to take in the situation, and then said, "What do I call you..." ..._If I decide to talk to you at all_, she thought maliciously.

The clone stood and paused before answering, "I am Dana 4. You may call me 4, if you would like."

"Four? Is... that's how many there are... isn't it..."

"Yes," she answered, "I will be returning shortly."

4 walked to the bed, and turned with another syringe.

"I'm sorry, but this is the only way..."

Then...

the darkness.

4 returned sometime later, just as the groggy Scully began to regain consciousness, this time carrying a glass of water. The grandfather clock that Scully had recently acquired struck one.

"Are you thirsty, Agent Scully?"

****


	2. Chapter 2

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Chapter two

Fox Mulder walked into his basement office, routinely tossing his jacket onto the coat rack that was always occupied by Max Fenig's NICAP hat. He gave Dana 4 a nod and set down his cup of coffee. His eyebrows lifted slightly in amusement. 

"Hey, what's with the outfit Scully? Not that a skin-tight leather suit is a bad look for you; just a change."

"That's it. Just a change." 4 smiled brightly until he looked away. She glanced down at her apparel and scolded herself for the blunder. Dana 4 had always liked the feel of leather, the way that it smelt, the way it moved. She now assumed that Scully did not share her taste in clothing. 

"Something's different," said Mulder as he looked across the desk at her. "I can't quite place it."

4 coolly stared back, allowing the corner of her mouth creep upward, even though she was beginning to worry that her cover was blown. She decided to try sarcasm, a typical emotion she had been working on for some time, and something she had been told was frequently used by Agent Scully. She reached up to her neck, then acted as if she were just remembering something.

"My cross. I lost it. That's all. I see your photographic memory doesn't fail you for a second, Mulder," she answered with a flash of white teeth. 

Mulder sat back, and folded his arms; he hadn't bought the explanation, or the fake smile. There was something else. He sat up again, rather quickly, and placed an elbow on his desk.

"Are you feeling all right? You usually aren't this peppy in the morning. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen the peppy side of Dana Scully." 

"I'm feeling perfectly fine."

"All right," he conceded, though the gnawing feeling in his gut told him that something was off. He ignored it with great difficulty, and gulped down what was left of his drink. Mulder caught a glimpse of 4, who was nervously rapping her fingers on the desktop. He cleared his throat and set his mug down on the edge of the desk. 

"Did Skinner give you that file on the Sanderson family?"

4 sat up and leaned forward, relieved that she finally had some solid facts to discuss, "Actually, I talked to the Chief of Police this morning, and it turned out to be nothing. Mr. Sanderson wanted custody of the children and thought that he could convincingly set his wife up to look like she was a practicing witch. He told them that she was performing Satanic rituals and that it wasn't safe for the children to live with her."

Mulder nodded thoughtfully at this and turned the chair toward the wall.

"Glad to know we wasted our time on a nut job. How did they find him out?"

"He broke down and confessed to the whole thing last night. Apparently he didn't have enough nerve to stick to his story. The law enforcement is laughing at us for believing the little show he put on," she said.

"Just wait until they get a taste of the paranormal, and they won't be laughing so hard. Someday, Scully. They'll all regret calling me Spooky."

4 wiped the sweat from her brow. She knew Mulder had suspected something, and he wasn't going to be easy to fool for long. He knew his partner too well. Spying on the FBI agent wasn't as simple as she thought it would be, but she had done her home work. She could pull it off until she was given more orders regarding Mulder's loyalties. If only he would just stick to the facts. 

4 remembered the argument on the day of her assignment. Strughold had wanted her to assassinate Mulder, to get him out of the way, but her _father _had insisted on her only watching him. She fingered the small lump on the back of her neck, the only distinguishing mark between her and Agent Scully. The one thing that kept her from being completely human. 

4 gazed at the poster behind Mulder's head. _I want to believe._ She pondered the statement, wondering what it could mean. She didn't know much about the world around her, no more than what her _father _had taught her. Like Mulder, she had been left in the dark, but she supposed it was for the best. Believing in things wasn't her purpose so 4 pushed the thought out of her mind.

"...Scully, snap out of it!"

4 bounced back to reality to see Mulder leaning over his desk waving a hand past her face. She couldn't hold out anymore. She had to tell him something.

"I'm sorry. It's just that...well I'm worried about my brother."

"What? Mr. I'm-the-king-of-the-world, Bill Jr?" 

"No, Mulder. Charles. He visited last night and was having some trouble with his job, and my nephew is very sick. It's been a hard week for him," she replied. 4 had complete appreciation for the many days she had spent in training; studying the agents, learning how to create false scenarios if needed. Was it convincing enough? Mulder stared at her for a moment, thinking over what she said.

"That's okay. I hope nothing's seriously wrong."

"I'm sure it's really nothing. It'll blow over. But that's not important right now. My personal life doesn't belong here."

4 crossed her arms, pleased with her convincing performance. She would soon learn how to fool him more easily. 

_I cannot let my mind wander. I am above that. I was made to perform a purpose_, she told herself. Next time, Mulder wouldn't even notice a thing.

---

Scully had never been more bored in her life. She had woken that morning after a short sleep to find 4 dressed in a suit and ready for work; _her_ work, not 4's. That was how it had been for three days, except for the first day. Scully didn't know what the hell 4 had been thinking, wearing a leather suit to impersonate her. But other than that, Mulder must have been buying the guise.

Prior to leaving, she had moved Scully into the central bathroom, and hand cuffed her to a sturdy pipe, leaving her right hand free to pick up the few items she had been given: a stack of paper, a pencil, some food, and a bottle of water. Between that and unconsciousness, Scully hadn't done much. In that part of the house, no one would be able to hear her shout if they were outside, and if by chance someone in the building could faintly hear, it would be dismissed as a TV or a radio, perhaps even an argument in another room. No one, but someone in her own apartment, would be able to help her. Scully spent the first half of the morning screaming to her hearts content like the morning before, and the one before that, but to no avail. So she sat the last half of the morning muttering to herself about the stupid mess she was in. Scully thought that she could go mad in a situation such as this. 

__

Talking to yourself, she thought, _isn't exactly a good sign_.

She tried to make the most of it until she grew hungry, munching on the dry turkey sandwich and taking small sips of water. Scully decided she was lucky to get even that, as most abductors failed to feed their prisoners, let alone give them sandwiches and water. Given the circumstances, she was probably fortunate that she was still alive. That was what she didn't understand. Why had she been allowed to live? Wouldn't she be considered a threat? If she were dead, then 4 and her damn project would have no risk of being exposed. 

Scully finished her sandwich and reached for a piece of paper. She might as well find a way to pass the time. With lack of something better to do, she began to draw, letting her mind float freely without thought, not even to what she was drawing. When she finished, she held out the paper to take a good look at it. 

_Maybe I should have pursued art. Then I wouldn't be in this mess, _she thought dryly.But pursuing a miscellaneous talent hadn't been what she really wanted. She had wanted to be a doctor and after that, a FBI agent. With a sigh, Scully tossed the paper aside and picked up another sheet.

---

4 closed the door to the apartment and leaned up against it. She hadn't been prepared. With all the work she'd done, with all the files and profiles she had studied, she hadn't been prepared. The whole day she kept running into awkward moments and would blame them on one thing or another. Three days had passed, and all she could tell him was: 'Today is just one of those days. I hope you understand.'

_What a failure, _she told herself. _That's all you'll ever be. Who do you think you are? You're not even good enough to be human. You don't even have your own name. Dana, Dana 4._

4 walked into the bedroom, trying to shake the blank look on her face, but she couldn't even do that. She strode up to the bathroom door, swinging it open. Scully looked up as she entered.

"Did you find any use for what I gave you? I'm sorry that I could not give you much else, but I can't have you escaping. Was your lunch enough?"

There was faint look of concern on her face, but Scully couldn't tell if it was real. Perhaps if 4 hadn't looked exactly like her, she would have tried to reason with her. But the physical similarities only reminded Scully of what 4 was - a clone.

"It was fine. I want to ask you something...4," Scully felt awkward talking to herself.

4 sat down on the floor beside her and looked at her with what could only be interpreted as expectancy. Instead of going on, Scully studied the face before her. Despite the likeness, the facial expressions were different, and 4's personality was that of a younger woman, not of a thirty-six year old FBI agent. It was understandable. 4 had no past except for the few years she had existed. There was no way that she would ever be like her. Scully almost felt sorry for the clone, but something still wouldn't let her.

"4, what is my purpose in all this?"

4 hesitated, looking down at her hands. The look on her face almost resembled one of a five-year old that has stolen a cookie and doesn't want to tell. Finally in a small voice, the answer came.

"I lied ... to you. To everyone. I was told to kill you. I wanted to kill you when I first saw you. I know I'm not completely human, but it's horrible being a clone. I knew when I saw you that I could never be my own person. But I couldn't kill you. I came from you. I know I have to complete my purpose, but I don't see any reason why I have to slaughter you, in cold blood. I have started to learn about feelings; hate from that group of men, love from my father-"

"Father?" Scully cut her off.

4 looked at her with scrunched brows and quickly stood up.

"I should make some dinner for you shouldn't I? You're probably getting hungry."

With that, 4 darted out of the bathroom, leaving Scully by herself once more. Once in the next room she sat down on the couch. 

'_Stupid! Why are you so stupid? Why tell her these things. She's not like you. She could never understand. All she could ever do is hate you. Hate, hate, hate.'_

****


	3. Chapter 3

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Chapter three

_Knock! Knock!_ There was no answer. Mulder waited outside Scully's apartment thinking only about how strange she had acted the past few days. She had seemed so uncaring about the loss of her gold cross, something that he knew she cherished. She had also seemed distracted. Granted, life was certainly not normal for her, or for him, as well. Maybe it was all becoming too much for her to handle, maybe she was becoming uneasy...

"Scully?" he said loudly putting his mouth close to the door. Again he waited, but no one answered. He turned and began to walk away, just as the door opened and 4 looked out. He did not notice this as he continued down the hall, and wouldn't have if she had not called out to him.

"Mulder?"

The apartment seemed dark and dim, not bright and cheery as it usually looked, and the floor was littered with papers. Mulder picked up the nearest sheet, a drawing of a small child standing in a corner. She had sad eyes.

"Did you draw this, Scully?"

4 took the paper from his hands and studied it. She couldn't believe how fast the real Scully had sketched all the drawings. She had been going to put them on a shelf, but dropped them on the floor when Mulder first began to knock on the door. It was a lonely feeling picture, filled with sorrow. 4 had seen a photograph of the young girl in her captive's bedroom, and she knew who it was.

"Yes," she answered finally, "I drew it."

Mulder followed her as she walked through the room, picking up papers and setting them on the desk, on the shelves, on the tables...

"I didn't know you could draw. It's a beautiful picture."

She was nervous, he could tell. She constantly brushed hair out of her face with her hands, and kept moving objects around the room, as if nothing seemed to be in the right place. Mulder sat down on the couch and stared forward.

"There are many things you don't know about me, Mulder. I'm sure there are still things I don't know about you. I'm sorry about the mess. As I told you. It's just one of those days."

He took the picture from the coffee table, tracing the outline of the girls face with his finger. He knew who it was, and he knew that it was some sign of the emotional scar that remained on Scully's heart. It hadn't been fair. She had only been a mother for a few days, before it was all taken from her.

He looked up at 4 and spoke kindly, "This is Emily. Is this what has been bothering you lately?"

_Emily_. The name echoed in her brain. The child of Dana Scully, who had died of a strange disease that ferociously attacked her small body. 

"It is a picture of her. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about her. I wish that she were still here. I've always wondered what kind of mother I would have made. But I- Never mind. I can't talk about it right now. I just can't. I'll be back, in a moment."

Dana 4 turned quickly from the room and walked into the bedroom.

Scully rested her ear against the door. How she wanted to call out to him, for him to free her, from her bondage and from herself. But the gag in her mouth prevented her from making more than muffled gibberish. 

_I've always wondered what kind of mother I would have made._ That's what 4 had said to Mulder. Somehow, Scully had allowed herself to feel an increasing pity for the clone, but at that moment she hated her, maybe not for reading her journal, her senseless scribbling, but because 4 could tell Mulder the things that she had wanted to tell him for years, the things she couldn't tell him. Yes, she needed him now, but hadn't she always needed him, just to help her feel human? Just to give her a sense of self-worth? To, furthermore, give _her_ the feeling of being needed? Why couldn't she tell him? He had told her everything that weighed on his heart, but she couldn't tell him how much she wanted to hold her darling baby. How she couldn't let go. 

As she had done many times before, Scully labored with her bonds, her wrists red and sore from abrasion. Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes, threatening to overflow. The door to the bathroom opened and 4 stepped in, smiling in her worrisome way, not realizing how much she was detested at that instant. Scully glared at her, not willing to turn a friendly eye upon such an unfeeling monster.

"I'm sorry about the gag," she whispered. "You understand, don't you? I'll bring you dinner later. I have to go now."

The door closed. 

_'Dammit,' _she thought_. 'Why can't I just keep hating her? why does she have to act like she cares about me? She's holding me captive for heaven's sake.' _

The more she interacted with 4, the harder it was for her to feel hatred. After all, she was still alive. Yes, she was alive, and that meant she could do something about what was happening. Scully eyed the room, searching for anything that could help her, as she had done many times that day. Sliding closer to the other end of the bathroom, as difficult as it was with hands and legs tied, she kicked the door as hard as possible, making a loud _thunk_.

"What was that?" she heard Mulder ask from the other room. Scully's eyes widened with hope. It had been louder than she had thought it would be. Again she kicked the door and again, each time louder than before. Why hadn't she thought of this before? It was so simple. She had been overcomplicating things once more. Again she heard Mulder's voice, closer this time, asking 4 what was going on. She was about to kick one last time, but the door opened and Mulder walked in, his gun drawn.

He looked at her with wide eyes, freezing for a moment, not knowing what was where, who was who. That had been his mistake. 4 had come up behind him, dropping him with a sharp chop to the neck. 

"He's not dead," she said in a short, cold manner. "I'm disappointed in you, Agent Scully. I trusted that you wouldn't make this difficult for me." And with that, Dana 4 had claimed her next prisoner.

Guns were horrid things. 4 dangled the weapon between her thumb and pointer fingers. She turned her head, unable to stare into the eyes of her _mother_. If only it hadn't been like this, if only she had been someone else, 4 could have killed the woman. But the facts were there, the face was the same, and 4 could not harm her. She set the gun on the dresser outside the door and turned to face Scully, summoning every bit of courage.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to find out. I...I understand now why it was my order to kill you, but I still can't, I won't, and I might have to kill him now, too. I will have to ask my father. I have to know what to do..."

Her voice trailed off when she realized how nonsensical she sounded. Leaning over, she un-gagged Scully and began to lift the unconscious Mulder. He was heavy, but 4 was strong. She carried him into the bedroom and lay him down next to the radiator. She then returned to the bathroom and untied Scully's legs. Scully stayed silent, and allowed herself to be led to the spot where she sat every night. 

4 took Mulder's coat off his limp form and searched the pockets, finally producing a pair of hand cuffs and a key. She put the key in her pocket and placed one of the cuffs on Mulder's left hand. He murmured softly, but did not waken from his senselessness. She then untied Scully's hands and keeping a firm grip on her right wrist, wound the handcuff chain through the sturdy radiator pipes and clapped the other cuff on Scully's right hand. She then tied Scully's legs, and Mulder's legs, once more. 

"I understand if you have no wish to speak to me. I understand, and I am sorry, but I cannot let you go, and I cannot disobey my father."

She propped Mulder up against the wall and stood up determinedly. 4 stared down at them, trying to appear firm.

"You talk about wanting to be your own person!" Scully shouted. "You talk about wanting to feel like a human! Why don't you start now?" She paused, choking back a frustrated sob. "You can start now."

4 shook her head. "I'll get your dinner now. And I'll get food for him too. He's waking up. You might want to explain the situation."

As soon as she had gone, Scully scooted toward Mulder and patted his cheek. His eyes jerked open and darted about the room.

"Mulder! Mulder, it's okay. It's me, Scully."

She helped Mulder sit up against the wall and jiggled her arm a bit. Her fingers were beginning to feel tingly. Frustration was soon giving way to irritation, and she had a feeling that Mulder wasn't going to help the matter.

"There were two of you. Was I hallucinating? This is you, isn't it Scully?"

"Yes, it's me. If you'd calm down I could tell you what is going on." Mulder closed his eyes. After a moment, he nodded for her to continue. Scully took a deep breath and spoke in a whisper. "The person in the other room is a clone who calls herself Dana 4. She was under orders to kill me and take my place, to deceive you for heaven knows what, but now you've discovered that she's a fake, she has to ask her 'father' what to do. I'm really not sure about what's supposed to be happening here. I mean, she told me that she won't kill me, and she's treated me as kindly as she can manage without letting me roam freely about the apartment.

"4 didn't say anything about who she was employed or created by except that there were a group of men that her 'father' belonged to. Now, is it just me, or is it not that hard to guess at who those men are?"

Mulder nodded in agreement and then replied.

"So let's see if I've got this straight. Except for the fact that you and I are handcuffed to the radiator in your bedroom, not that I would object to it under normal circumstances, and that our captor is a clone of **you** that works for a shadowy group of high government officials that can kill whomever they please, whenever they please...everything's dandy. I think I pretty much have everything down," Mulder stopped and glanced to the door. Sounds could be heard coming through the small opening. "And now she's cooking us lord-knows-what and-"

"Shut up, Mulder. Just- just shut up. We are up the creak without the dammed paddle okay? I don't need your 'wit' right now.

He lowered his voice and continued. "Dammit Scully. They took advantage of my trust in you. Maybe they won't kill me, but how does that stop them from...from-"

The door opened and 4 waltzed through carrying two plates of sandwiches and some napkins. She set them on the floor by the pair and sat on the bed, waiting for them to begin eating.

"They're turkey. I'm sorry, but I'm not much of a cook."

Mulder turned his head to look at Scully, who had done the same, and raised an eyebrow at this seemingly caring comment. 4, noticing this, slid onto the floor and sat cross-legged.

"Did I say something amusing, Mulder? Eat, please. I don't want you to be hungry." 

Mulder gingerly picked up his sandwich and took a small bite, hiding a slight grimace.

"Compliments to the chef," he said without swallowing. 4 smiled.

"Thank you."

After she had gone, Mulder spat the sandwich out into a napkin and slid the plate away. Scully ignored this action, picked up her sandwich, and began to eat with a bored look on her face.

"How can you eat that? This stuff is worse than prison food. I think she's trying to poison us."

A few beats passed before he continued.

"How do you ruin a sandwich?"

"You might as well get used to it," Scully remarked as she took another bite. "It's all I've eaten for the past 72 hours."

Mulder snorted at this statement and looked around the room for anything that could be used as weapon. Scully put a hand on his arm.

"I already looked. There's nothing. She was trained pretty well. I guess all we can do is wait for her to make a mistake."

"Well, Scully, no one's perfect. Not even a clone of you."


	4. Chapter 4

****

Chapter four

Mulder woke as the first ray of dawn filtered through the blinds above his head, and almost jumped out of his skin. A pair of eyes stared straight back into his. He glanced down at Scully, whose head had just rolled over onto his shoulder and then back at 4, who was just leaving. She had re-gagged the two and tied their arms behind their backs, all without waking them. 

"I'll be back to fix you breakfast later," she whispered. He sighed softly, realizing that this was his first dawn of captivity. Mulder closed his eyes and let sleep wash over his mind.

"...he knows now, and I don't know what to do with him. I failed my mission, Father. I need your advice."

The Cancer Man exhaled a puff of smoke and leant back in his chair. 4 sat on the edge of her seat, eagerly awaiting his answer, as Strughold paced behind her. She had never liked Strughold, in all the years that she had known him. He never wanted to listen to others' ideas, always hastily suggesting that people be simply erased from their problems. He had wanted Mulder dead. The rest had refused; they knew how much he was needed. 

"Maybe we wouldn't be in this mess if you had all listened to me in the first place. No matter what you do to them, they only grow stronger. And you thought sending..._that_," Strughold pointed accusingly toward 4, "_That thing _to deceive him would work?"

"Maybe you had a plan of your own, Strughold?" The man took another drag and slowly exhaled.

"I told you my plan. Eliminate the problem. We have them; why not dispose of them?"

"Not yet," another elder replied. "Mulder is still needed."

Strughold stalked towards the Cancer Man and jabbed a finger at him.

"No, you are only delaying his death for one reason. You don't want to kill him because he's your son. You killed Jeffrey with no trouble. What is the difference?"

"Jeffrey was a fool. Fox is the difference. No, Strughold. Perchance...we have been working on the wrong person. We need something to lead him towards us."

Strughold looked up at him inquisitively.

"Go on."

"Perhaps Scully needs only to be broken, not killed. When she comes, so will the other."

"Perhaps," he conceded, "Perhaps...you are right."

bd

"I have decided to let you go. You have to leave here. They ordered me to...I..." Four began to untie the gags and pulled out the key to the handcuffs.

"What's the catch?" asked Mulder.

"No catch. I've prepared your things. Please go, please. I am forfeiting my life for yours, so please do not make it be in vain. Here," she tossed a few belongings in their direction, "Take these. Here are the keys to my motorcycle and here are some directions, telling you where you can go that's safe. You cannot have your car, just in case. Now leave."

Mulder shook his head. "No, there's gotta be some sort of catch here."

"How can we trust you?" Scully stooped to pick up her gun, opening the clip to make sure it was loaded.

"You don't have any other choices. There's no one left to trust. Just go."

4 drew an ice-pick out of her pocket, raising it high above her. For a moment she faltered, realizing that doing what her father had asked was destroying her chance to be herself. To the end she was true to only him, and to the end she would remain a clone. She bowed her head as a tear slid down her cheek and plunged the spike into the base of her neck. Scully began to reach out to catch the falling body, finally letting the pity she felt for her replica loose, but Mulder grabbed her arm.

"No," Mulder pulled her back, "The blood is poisonous. Leave her!"

He walked out the door, and Scully, after lingering a few moments longer, followed him. Together, they calmly walked down the hallway, placing their guns in their holsters and their phones in their pockets. Mulder gripped the motorcycle's keys tightly in one hand and took Scully's hand in the other. Once they hit the street they picked up their pace, not looking back, not looking to the side, not even concentrating on what was before them. Mulder got on the motorcycle and beckoned for Scully to do the same.

"Let's go."

"But Mulder...I-" Scully then turned to look at her apartment building. It had seemed so safe a week ago. She had a feeling this was the last time she was going to see it.

"All right," she whispered, "Let's go."


End file.
